


Guarding those Gardenias

by cjr



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Werewolves, Derek is a flower theft, Fluff, Gardens & Gardening, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-01
Updated: 2015-07-01
Packaged: 2018-04-07 05:07:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4250502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cjr/pseuds/cjr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“What do you think you’re doing?” Stiles shouts with a glare.</p><p>The man glances down at the flower in his hands, then back up at Stiles, then back down at the flower, looking very conflicted. </p><p>“Uh, sorry, I didn’t mean to—“ he begins.</p><p>“Nope. You don’t get to talk,” Stiles interrupts. "You get to keep walking,” the man starts nodding in relief, “and I will follow you to make sure whoever is getting those flowers is pretty enough to warrant flower theft.” </p><p>OR</p><p>“Sometimes I steal flowers from your garden on my way to the cemetery, but today you’ve caught me and have demanded to come with me to make sure the ‘girl is pretty enough to warrant flower theft’ and I’m trying to figure out how to break it to you that we’re on our way to the graveyard” AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	Guarding those Gardenias

This is it! This is the last time Stiles is going to watch that man walk away with _his_ flowers.  No matter how attractive he is when he leans over the fence, Stiles is done.  His poor gardenias are the prettiest flowers on the block, so at least the stranger has nice taste, but still!  It’s the thought.  Stiles hasn’t bled for his garden so that some attractive asshole could come in and steal his favorite flowers.  He worked for those!  They took years of constant care and gentle love to bloom the way they did this year.

And maybe he’s being unfair because he’s watched that stranger take flowers from his garden before and not minded, but he usually just grabs one or two from his rose bush or from his little aisles by his driveway.  Stiles is okay with him taking those ones.  Honest! He may have drunkenly ranted to Scott about them once, but it’s fine now.  And mostly that rant wasn’t really about the man taking flowers as it was about his ass and the way it haunted Stiles’ dreams. 

Anyway, Stiles stops staring out the window and decides to act upon his rage, storming out of his room and throwing his shoes on before slamming out of his door, surprising the stranger who had just plucked a single flower from the bush.  “What do you think you’re doing?” Stiles shouts with a glare.

The man looks up, his not-even-a-real-color eyes locking with Stiles own muddy brown ones. He glances down at the flower in his hands, then back up at Stiles, then back down at the flower, looking very conflicted.  Some of Stiles pent up rage disappears in the face of the man’s godlike beauty and a little more disappears at how lost the man looked upon seeing Stiles.  Like he hadn’t even really thought that this was someone’s house.

“Uh, sorry, I didn’t mean to—“ he begins.

“Nope. You don’t get to talk,” Stiles interrupts. Just cause he isn’t _as_ mad as he’d been, didn’t mean he isn’t still very mad. “You get to keep walking,” the man starts nodding in relief, “and I will follow you to make sure whoever is getting those flowers is pretty enough to warrant flower theft.” The man’s eyes widen.

“Uh, I really don’t think you should—“

“Nope. I’m coming,” Stiles says, walking out of his gated yard.  He stands by the man with his arms crossed over his chest until the guy started walking. Stiles is silent for a little while before he realizes he didn’t even know his walking buddy’s name. “I’m Stiles, by the way.”

“I know,” the stranger responds. At Stiles’ quizzical look, he continues. “You’re the Sheriff’s son. I’m Derek, one of his deputies.”

“Oh,” Stiles exclaims in understanding.  His dad sometimes talked about a Derek, how the man was one of his finest deputies.  “Wait! If you’re a deputy, shouldn’t you know better than to steal someone’s flowers?”

Derek shrugs, “I just never really thought about it, I guess.”  Stiles rolls his eyes.

“They’d better be damn pretty then, whoever these flowers are for.  Those are my best flowers, man.  Do you have any idea how much work goes into proper gardenia cultivation? Probably not!  Seeing as you still go ahead and grab whichever flowers you want! I was fine with it when it was the petunias or the tulips or the roses, but not my poor gardenias!” Stiles rants about proper flower cultivation as they walked. 

About halfway through a sentence on how difficult it is to know when it’s going to be so sunny that you’re flowers would need a little extra water (not too much cause you don’t want to drown them) he stops.  Because he recognizes this path.  It’s a path he could walk in his sleep (and after his mom died, he did).  He ran down it when he was upset, happy, or just lonely. It’s the path to the cemetery.

He looks at Derek again, noticing for the first time the tense way he’s walking and the nervous glint to his eyes.  And then it clicks, Derek _Hale_.  He must’ve said it aloud because the ma next to him looked at him, his back even straighter than it had been before. 

“Yeah, Derek Hale.”

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t—I mean, of course I didn’t—but still, it wasn’t my place,” and with that Stiles turns around and jogs away, leaving Derek to his visit alone and feeling like absolute shit for being such an ass to Derek about the flowers.  He is so caught up in his self loathing that he doesn’t even hear the deputy shouting his name as he runs off.

* * *

An hour later he finds himself in his garden, weeding and watering and cultivating.  He’s thinking about adding an area to grow vegetables and so he needs to start getting soil ready to lay the plot out.  Maybe some cucumbers, definitely tomatoes, maybe lettuce or spinach.  The entire world of vegetables is his oyster.  He’s hands deep in dirt when someone clears their throat behind him.  He jumps up and whips around, freezing in surprise when the motion brings him face to face with Derek. 

“Uh, hi?” he asks Derek in greeting.

“Hi,” Derek says. And then they stand there for a little while.

“While I should probably—“

“Do you want anything to drink?” Stiles interrupts.  Because there’s no chance in hell he’s letting Derek walk out now.  “I’ve got lemonade.  Or beer, if that’s more you’re thing.  Which it probably is.  Sorry, I’m just used to mostly entertaining young kids or elderly women.” Stiles walks up to his house and holds the door open for Derek, gesturing for the other to come in.

“Sit,” Stiles orders, pointing at his counter as he walks to the fridge and grabs them each a beer. He opens both and sets Derek’s down in front of him before taking a sip of his own. 

Derek cautiously picks his up and brings it to his mouth.  After he takes a sip he nods and says a careful “Thanks.”

“No problem,” Stiles responds, unsure of how to continue the conversation without bugging Derek with too many questions on his visit to the cemetery. 

“How’s the gardening going?” Derek asks, after a lengthy pause.

Stiles has got this. If there is one thing that he can talk about for hours on end, it’s gardening.  He tells Derek about the weeds that keep blowing in from his neighbors’ yard because the Allens don’t care about gardening at all and they have every weed known to man hiding away in their back yard.  He tells Derek about his vegetable garden and even gets feedback on what he should plant.  Who knew Derek was a fan of pumpkins?  He tells Derek about how his hose broke earlier and so he had to lug a bucket of water all around his yard to water his poor flowers.  And that he would’ve gone to the store but didn’t know if he’d have time because he invited Scott and his wife over for dinner.  And so that’s how he found himself leaning on the side of his house as Derek took a look at his hose.

“I’m pretty sure it’s clogged or something, but I wouldn’t know how.   Like the faucet still works but no water gets through the hose. I think I just need to buy a new one,” he’s rambling while Derek half listens and does something to his hose and then twists it back on to his faucet and turns it on, water pouring out of the other side.  “Oh my God! You fixed it!  Thank you so much!”

“Call it a repayment for all of the flowers,” Derek responds, a small smile on his face.

“No I think this is only repayment enough for like three flowers, max.  But no worries,” Stiles joked, “there’s still so much more that you can help me with!  And then you can take all the flowers you could possibly want.”

Derek stands up from where he’d been crouching to look at the hose.  “Doesn’t sound like that’s quite enough payment for all the work that went into those gardenias.  I think that I should take you out to dinner, just to be sure.” He comes over to stand right in front of Stiles, placing his hands on the wall by Stiles’ head and leaning in.

“I could be persuaded,” Stiles swallows and arches up until his lips are brushing Derek’s.

“Then let me persuade you,” Derek says, tingling Stiles’ lips with the movement of each word. He finally presses in that last millimeter of distance until his mouth is firmly against Stiles’. The kiss starts out soft and gentle, lips just moving against lips.  Stiles opens his mouth and lets his tongue glide against Derek’s bottom lips until his mouth is opening and his tongue dueling with Stiles'. 

Derek presses Stiles harder against the wall, leaning his weight on the others.  Stiles feels a leg pressing between his own and opens up for it, grinding down where it presses against his hard on. Derek’s mouth breaks from his own and moves down to suck and kiss at his neck.  Stiles is a wanton mess of moaning and grinding when he vaguely hears a car pull up to the curb.  It doesn’t quite process for him what that means until someone is clearing their throat behind Derek.  They both freeze in their ministrations and Derek makes to turn around before Stiles’ wits return and he grabs Derek to keep him where he is, sure that Scott and Kira don’t really want a glimpse at the state that the make out session had left him in. “We’ll be inside, whenever you’re ready,” Kira jokes, grabbing Scott from where he’s standing with his jaw dropped and just staring at them and dragging him inside.

“Sorry,” Derek says against Stiles neck.  “I should probably go,” and he makes to withdraw but Stiles holds him against his neck.

“Or you could stay for dinner? I mean, I know it may be fast because Scott is practically family but we’re probably just going to order pizza and get drunk and then watch stupid comedies so I understand if you wouldn’t want to but—“ Derek interrupts Stiles with a small kiss.

“I’d love to,” he says. And then grabs Stiles’ hand and leads him into the house.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so I actually know absolutely nothing about gardening or flower care so I apologize to anyone who is bothered by that.
> 
> Visit me on tumblr at whowhatwhenwhereandwhynot.tumblr.com
> 
> Comments and kudos appreciated!


End file.
